


Harry Potter and the Truth of the Soul

by FayeS2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Boys Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Time, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Soul Bond, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeS2/pseuds/FayeS2
Summary: When Harry Potter traveled back in time, waking up in 1951, on a small island in the interior of Italy, he thought that looking for a way to return home would be his biggest challenge. However, fate proved once again uncertain, when the young Gryffindor found himself in a turbulent case. When small villages begin to be destroyed around Europe, by a pompous asshole who has the power to control the most dangerous magical creatures in the wizarding world. It is because of his Gryffindor recklessness that Harry is once again thrown into the middle of the Chaos. How will our hero deal with all this tragedy, accompanied by a young Tom Riddle, 23 years old, who most of the time plays as Bazan M'Lynn?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 20
Kudos: 132





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I created this story in a crazy thought in the middle of the night (moments when my creativity flourishes), so I can't say that it makes a lot of sense. I just felt like I should give Harry and Tom my own original story. However, the warnings that I can give about the work are: There is time travel, magical creatures, soul bonds, obscenity (because who doesn't like that sometimes?), Powerful magicians, an alternative universe, the study and research of runes and alchemy.  
> Now that you are properly warned, ready to join me, Tom (Baz) and Harry on this rather strange adventure?  
> Comments and criticism are very welcome.  
> \- Faye

_May 1998_

  
Harry was sure that nothing could have prepared him to see Vincent Grabbe being consumed by the flames of the _fiendfyre_.

  
It was all so fast. Just a moment ago he, Hermione and Ron were running towards the Room of Requirement in search of destroying Voldemort's penultimate Horcrux, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. Then Grabbe, Goyler and Malfoy were showing up, trying to kill Harry. So Draco Malfoy was begging his friends not to do that and Grabbe was summoning fiendfyre, - an almost uncontrollable flame, which never went out, were it not for a magician powerful enough to extinguish it.

  
To hell with all that damn war. It wasn't supposed to be like this. People shouldn't be dying. _Children_ who had not even reached adulthood should not have to choose sides.

  
Harry needed to get this over. And it had to be now.  
However, against all the young Gryffindor's plans, an unimaginable event happened.

  
As soon as he was going to use his broom to catch Malfoy and fly away from the fiendfyre’s flames, powerful energy kept him in place. 

  
On one of the many bookshelves in the hidden stuff room, a dark-covered book with yellowed pages trembled and shone. A bluish energy – or, rather, magic, – spun and crackled around him. Humming first, faintly, but gradually increasing to a high and unbearable sound.

  
The young green-eyed boy was unable to shout for his friends before that same energy pulled him into the book.

  
As the flames spread, the book entitled _Rune of Inferorum Animas Excitat¹_ shivered until it fell to the side, motionless and silent again. 

  
And with that, Harry Potter, the child of prophecy, was gone.

* * *

_1 - In a very nutty Google translation; Rune of Souls_


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in 1951 Tom should have already found all the magical artifacts of the founders of Hogwarts, and consequently created more Horcruxs. However, this story does not take the events in the canon literally. Therefore, Tom did not go to work at Borgin and Burkes and has only two Horcruxs; The diary and the Ring. Instead, he traveled the world in search of expanding his acquaintance and magical ability.

_January 1951_

  
Torrential rain fell in heavy cascades on Tom Riddle's umbrella. The weather was the result of the typical arrival of spring under Palermo, the capital of a small island in the interior of Italy, called Sicília.

  
Traveling and exploring islands, villages, forests, cities and countries all over the world in search of knowledge, Tom had found this small, picturesque community. Its historical collection distributed between museums and churches was immense. Because of this, there was also a vast collection of books and magical artifacts that left the magician in awe.

  
After collecting small favors and exploring some of his contacts, he had arrived at a small, obscure store in _Tribuna Avversaria_ ¹ - a neighborhood specializing in magic objects similar to the Diagon Alley in London, whose entrance was behind a small Catholic church in the south of the city - called _Testo & Piúma_².

  
At first glance, the hut looked old, small and badly maintained. However, young Riddle had already visited places in worse conditions and found real treasures. He knew he shouldn't judge by appearance alone.

  
As soon as he enter through the door, he put his black umbrella down and leaned it against the wall. As he walked, patting his shoulders, getting rid of any existing raindrops, he looked into the spacious interior of the store.

  
As expected, the place was bigger and more refined inside than outside. Perhaps camouflaged by an illusion spell to ward off prying eyes. Stores like these, Tom knew, did not value the number of new customers, as most would. But for people with specific goals, with monetary power, for the reason that ordinary people would not have enough money to pay for a single book or artifact in their collections. This type of market worked in the shadows, and survived until today for the immense amount paid for each individual piece.

  
These pieces, of course, were not common, but they were priceless. Often referred to as dark, or evil. However, young Riddle considered that magic, no matter where it came from, was still magic. It should not be labeled, or even prohibited. Only fools would fail to enjoy the value and power that came with these magnificent pieces.

  
The interior of the store was crammed with shelves of books, you could not see windows to the outside. The room was lit by a few chandeliers that floated through the space, the floor was carpeted and the walls were made of stone, a color that resembled the dungeons in the Slytherin common room. There was also a small stand where a tired and irritated old woman stared at Tom. Her right eye appeared to be blind, white and dull, the old woman's skin was clear and wrinkled, her hair, however, was black and it covered her entire torso up to her chest. Even with the scowl, the old lady looked well cared for, ethereal, wearing an elegant black dress and a golden warmth around her neck.

  
Tom approached cautiously. His fluid movements and relaxed shoulders, however. With your typical persuasive smile on your face.

  
"Hello," Tom greeted with a slight nod, in perfect Italian. 

  
"What do you want, boy?" The old woman asked, sulky.

  
Her white eye assessed Tom from top to bottom, and the young man questioned whether his first assessment that the old woman was blind in one eye was wrong. On the contrary, it looked like with this eye she saw beyond what was considered common.

  
Tom smirked.

  
The old woman looked suspicious. There was no way to blame her. Tom was obviously a stranger, and much younger than the customers she is old should be used to receiving. His caution was understandable. However, Tom had been through many similar situations before. He knew that the best thing to do in this situation was to maintain a calm and direct facade. Simple.

  
They were there on business, after all.

"I heard that this store has a rare collection of books on alchemy and ancient runes. I'd like to see It."

  
The old woman narrowed her eyes, a wicked smile playing on her cracked lips.

  
"Do you think you're in a library, boy?" The lady waved her hand in disdain, "Please go play or do what young people your age do and leave me alone. I don't have time to spend on your adventures."

The young Slytherin clenched his teeth, a vein in his forehead bouncing.

  
Taking a deep breath, Tom relaxed his shoulders. He released a silent spell of persuasion and smiled contentedly when he saw the glow in the old woman's only eye go opaque.

  
As he approached the stand, he propped his elbow on it and looked at the lady with a complete smile. 

  
"I suppose we were talking about your collection of books on alchemy and ancient runes. Could you show me the way to it?" Tom said, in his soft and polite voice. Anyone who saw it from the outside would hardly notice anything wrong with the scene.

  
"Sure honey. Follow me," The old lady now replaced her face with a friendly smile, "by the way, my name is Marie."

  
Tom followed the old woman, satisfied, through the dark wicker shelves, watching the bay of the lady's black dress ripple across the carpet.

  
"Nice to meet you, Marie. My name is Baz, Bazan M'Lynn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Again, a nutty translation made by Google; Adverse Tribune.  
> 2 - Text and Feather (yes, I have no creativity for names).


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say some information before we start the chapter. At that time, Tom still called his Death Eaters like Knights of Walpugirs, he would only have changed the name later on. And about the relics, he would have found them on his travels around the world instead of getting to work at Borgin and Burkes as I said earlier. There are a few more changes to the story that are not in the canon, so I ask you not to take the original plot into consideration. These are decisions I made to make the story more interesting (in my view). And before I forget, I stopped the chapter at that point because the next one will be narrated by Harry. Anyway, I don't remember if there is any more warning, but if I do, I'll leave it in the next notes. Good reading! Remembering that criticism and comments are very welcome.

The apartment that Tom Riddle rented was in a small set of miserable buildings, at the end of a neighborhood called _Abramo Linconl_ ¹. A poorer region of the city and, consequently, one of the main housing options for magical beings. For it passed unnoticed by the Muggles' curious and undesirable looks.

  
There were only three rooms, a living room, which connected a small kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. There was no balcony, but two large windows with a wide view of the city. It was simple, but functional for a quick and comfortable stay if you were a lonely traveler like the young Slytherin.

  
On a table in the center of the room, there were books, with leather covers and yellowed pages, separated and organized by content.

  
Tom was sitting comfortably in a brown armchair, in front of the table. Immersed in the reading of a complex text, written in Latin, which spoke about the different paths of alchemy in the Middle Ages.

  
After persuading old Marie, he had gotten a good deal of books from the private collection at half the price. Riddle did not have to worry about money, as he had started accumulating his fortune since the time he studied at Hogwarts. Through investments and the sale of rare books that he had found in a small underground library inside the Chamber of Secrets (books, which he had already read and made copies of), along with generous amounts of basilisk venom. However, it was wise to save money when the opportunity arose. Tom had gone through extreme poverty once and definitely knew that being cautious about his fortune wouldn't hurt.

  
As soon as he finished a particularly complex chapter, which needed more time to assimilate, young Riddle took the opportunity to pause reading.

  
He got up and went to the kitchen sink, where he kept under a heating spell a bag of gingerbread, which he had bought earlier, on the way to his apartment. He heated water and made a cup of chamomile tea - it always helped him to focus better.

  
After everything was ready, he took some honey and dipped it in a slice of bread, enjoying his snack quickly before going back to the research.

  
When he finished taking the dishes, he reached the table in the center of the room. Slytherin frowned when he noticed a title he didn't remember buying at Testo & Piúma that morning.

  
He picked up the battered-looking book and circled his lower back with the tip of his index finger, over the relief writing " _Rune of Inferorum Animas Excitat,_ " he read aloud.

  
As soon as he was about to consult the index of the book, an unexpected sting in his palm caused Riddle to step back and drop the book on the floor. 

  
Cursing himself for not thinking about checking to see if the book was under any kind of enchantment before touching it, Tom barely noticed when the object on the floor started to shake and hum. Only when the noise became too loud to be ignored did he notice the strange light coming out of the open pages.

  
In an instant (maybe a little longer), the light in the book intensified and the noise worsened with the absurd amount of magic crackling in the air. Tom had to close his eyes until the brightness faded and when he can see again, his eyes widened in astonishment.

  
In the middle of his living room, a dejected teenager with scorched clothes, covered in soot - as if he had just had an accident with the floo - stared at him. His intense green eyes were also wide, in shock.

  
"Who are you?" Tom growled, recovering much faster than the boy stunned on the floor.

  
In a second, as fast and agile as a snake, he was under the teenager, releasing his power and locking the youngest, immobile, in place. He was happy to have honed his wandless magic in the years when he left Hogwarts. Merlin knows how this skill will help him in the past few years.

  
The boy looked confused. Silent. His green eyes stopped looking at Tom, to check the environment around him.

  
Riddle squinted and closed his fist against the younger man's shirt, bringing their faces together.

  
Tom hated being ignored.

  
"I'll ask again, who are you?" He hissed, in a patient tone of voice, that it was taking all his effort to keep him.

  
The body beneath his finally seemed to gain consciousness, and the younger man frowned. 

  
"Where I am?" His voice was a little hoarse, but firm. He tried to move, but as soon as he saw that it was not possible, he looked at Tom angrily, immediately understanding the situation, "Release me now!"

  
The vein on Tom's forehead jumped.

  
"You have no right to make demands," snarled Riddle "Answer me, who are you? How did you appear in the middle of my living room without activating the protective barriers? What was that damn book?"

  
The boy grimaced, looking at Tom as if he had just cited a riddle that was difficult to solve.

  
"What are you talking about? Which book? As far as I know, you were the one who brought me here."

  
"You are crazy? Why would I bring you to me? I don't know you!"

  
The youngest stared at him with a withering look, "Then let go of me, idiot. I don't have time for conversation. Need to go. My friends need me!"

  
He forced his movements and Tom renewed his charm.

  
"Fuck if I care, " Riddle exasperated, feeling a wave of familiar hatred start to cloud his vision, "Answer me!"

  
Tom hesitated for a moment, trying to control the sudden anger he knew was a side effect of his two horcruxes. He needed to get some information out of the boy and if his anger increased, he wouldn't be able to think rationally anytime soon.

  
But it was only that moment of inattention that the youngest needed to get rid of the clutches of his silent spell. He concentrated and thought of a release charm, trying to make the magic work even without a wand. A quick boost and Riddle was being thrown against the table, breaking the wood in half and spreading his precious books on the floor.

  
Tom snarled, furious.

  
Ignoring the pain in his back, he stood up and let his own wand run down his arm under his shirt to the palm of his hand. He did not expect his opponent to also be skilled in wandless magic. Well, that would be a problem, but nothing that young Riddle couldn't handle.

  
Missing the familiar sensation of his yew wand and phoenix core, he pointed to the teenager with an ash wand, with a core of Thestral fur. It didn't look perfect in his palm, but it was definitely powerful.

  
Traveling the world, and meeting all kinds of people and species, as well as disgusting beings, he learned that keeping his true identity was always an advantage, to the point of maintaining stealth as almost second nature. 

  
Tom Marvolo Riddle had disappeared when he left England six years ago. From that moment on, tom went through several names and identities. Always playing with illusion spells and simple transfigurations.It was a way of protecting himself and not creating suspicions that later on could eventually come back to bite him in the ass.

  
Every self-respecting wizard must know his enemy's wand, because of this, the young Slytherin avoided using his original wand, exchanging for moderately satisfactory substitutions. It was a great plan, wherever he went, no one knew his real name or identity. Only a few contacts, like your knights who were on a perpetual vow, which prevented them from revealing any information about their master. Tom was also working on a brand that would make his allies more susceptible. However, it was not a simple charm and needed time to develop.

  
With agility, Tom cast a non-verbal long-distance spell on the boy. The youngest was quick and dodged, pulling out his own wand.

  
He launched a simple jinx and Riddle blocked it easily.

  
"Is that all you have?" He teased. A malicious smile on his face.

  
Tom countered but the boy managed to dodge. 

  
As time went on, they cast jinx, charms and spells from side to side, leaving Tom's small apartment in pieces. 

  
The spell exchange was starting to take longer than Tom had predicted, and slowly his smile fell from his face.

  
How in the hell did that teenager, who shouldn't have been over 18, dodge all his spells so easily? His movements were precise, calculated and agile. He showed a skill that could only be explained through countless real practices in duels. However, the spells he used were weak, usually taught for the early years at Hogwarts. How could such a skilled dualist have such a deficiency? Was that idiot playing with him? Did he think that Tom was not a worthy opponent? Who the hell was that boy?

  
There was no denying that the youngest was good, but Tom was more experienced and powerful. He would not lose.

  
Since a head-to-head duel wouldn't do anything, he quickly began to formulate a strategy to capture the boy and regain some of his pride.

  
Dodging a _Bombard_ , the Slytherin rolled over the kitchen counter and pointed his wand, whispering a defensive spell, while using the wandless magic to knock over a vase on the shelf behind the youngest. It worked, the vase fell on his spiny head and it was the perfect time for Tom to cast a spell to immobilize him.

  
However, for some reason in hell, the boy managed to block the spell, shouting " _expectro patronum_ ," before falling to the ground, and a silver light coming out of the tip of his wand.

  
Suddenly a transparent, but fully bodied, deer was running furiously towards Tom. The young Slytherin was thrown off balance by the fright, so his wand was being taken out of his hand and the great creature, the patron, was gone.

  
His body fell hard against the floor. Immobile.

  
Holy shit. He lost?!

  
How, for Salazar's beard, is this possible?

  
Never in his life had Tom lost a duel before. Still with a ...

  
" _Expelliarmus_. Did you just use a damn third-year spell against me?"

  
He was baffled, exasperated. Humiliation burning in your veins.

  
"For your information, I learned this in the second year. The patron was in the third. And yes, I used a second-year spell against you. And it worked. Have a problem with that? Well, get in the queue," a provocative smile appeared on his lips.

  
Tom felt the anger making his stomach bubble. He did not doubt that his eyes would be red (side effect of horcruxes) now under his illusion spell. If he had his own control over his body, he would have no qualms about killing the idiot in front of him. Screw the information. He could figure it out himself later. This boy had no idea what he was playing with.

  
Riddle locked his jaw so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if his teeth started to hurt.

  
"Fuck. Let me go now!"

  
The boy in front of him tossed Tom's wand, which flew in his hand, to a corner of the room and then pressed his index finger against the round glasses on his face. He tilted his head and made a noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, dude. But I cannot do that. You know, I can't be sure that you're not going to attack me," he shot a quick look at Riddle's face, "Or kill, as soon as I release the spell. And I really need to go now. My friends need me." He took a quick peek out the window, frowning "Where are we? How far is this place from Hogwarts?"

  
Tom gave a dry laugh, perhaps more like a roar.

  
Had Dumbledore sent this child? No, it couldn't be. He hadn't made a move on Tom yet, and he seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Of course, this could be due to not recognizing Tom, after all the Slytherin looked very different from his original.

  
The untidy teenager who was still pointing his wand in his direction, was of medium height, thin and did not appear to be very muscular. He wore horrible, thin-rimmed glasses, which were over a pair of green eyes. His hair was black and covered up to his forehead in a mess of curls. Her outfit, or what was left of it, was strange. Tom had already discovered that the youngest was from England, by his accent, but he still had his confirmation when the young wizard asked about Hogwarts. However, as much as he had been away for six years, he was sure that no one in England (or in the world) was dressed so... shabby?

  
However, he was sure, that young wizard was undoubtedly a Potter. He was practically a newer copy of Charlus Potter. However, he knew that the Potter family did not have many members. In addition to Charlus, who was too old to look like an eighteen-year-old boy, there was Fleamont, his son,but he should still be finishing his fourth year at Hogwarts. So who would that be? A bastard son?

  
"Hogwarts?" He snarled. "Do you even know what country we are in now?"

  
The teenager stopped. Stunned. Tom relished the sight, however, he couldn't deny that he too was confused. From the younger man's exasperated reaction, he really seemed to have no idea where he was. And that was a problem, because for the first time, Riddle had no absolute control over the situation.

  
"What are you talking about?"

  
"We're in Italy, idiot. On an island it calls Sicília, to be more exact." He replied, watching the young wizard lose his composure.

  
"Wha ... What?" He stammered, "you're lying. It's impossible."

  
Tom did not try to contain his smile. It would be unfortunate if it weren't almost comical.

  
"What would I gain by lying to you? You can very well go out and ask whoever you want, right now. I'm stuck, I can't stop you, and I have nothing to gain from that either."

  
"Oh certainly. Unless you're one of the death eaters. And your plan is to deceive me and buy time to destroy Hogwarts," he says, waving his wand, as if he has just solved a partially difficult puzzle. "Exactly, that must be it."

  
Tom looked at him in exasperation, confused as all the information he had just received.

  
"Death Eaters? Is anyone trying to destroy Hogwarts? What the fuck are you talking about, prat?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - This neighborhood really exists. Despite being a tourist spot, it has some bad evaluations due to its lack of restoration and adequate structures.
> 
> ....
> 
> English is not my native language so I would be very grateful if you let me know about any grammatical errors so that I can resolve it.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice, update 10/14
> 
> I would like to say that I made a little (maybe big - merlin, please help me be less indecisive and change all my planning when I can't sleep) change in this chapter and it would be interesting if you reread at least the part in which Tom explains about the runes to Harry.
> 
> And please let me know your opinion in the comments. It really helps me a lot!
> 
> ...
> 
> Well, I spent one night writing this chapter, but I really liked how it came out. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> It's funny how I always forget the warnings when I'm going to write the notes... I should leave it written down somewhere...

What would Hermione do?

  
After so many strange situations that he had been led to participate in some way, Harry ended up getting used to asking this question to himself. Of course, it didn't always work, because sometimes his reckless and careless side got the better of him. As it almost happened now, after telling the blonde in front of him that Hogwarts was being attacked.

  
This fact in itself should not be a secret, it would be in all newspapers around the wizarding world in a few hours, he is sure. However, all the shit about death eaters was a common issue, nothing new. Everyone already knew about it. But seeing the obvious surprise in his supposed captor's blue eyes (not from fear, terror or confusion, but something like: What the hell are you talking about? As if he really had no idea what it meant) was almost as shocking as knowing that he was lost on a distant island in Italy, who made Harry shut up for a moment.

  
"Death Eaters, you know, subordinates of the Dark Lord. Who you should also follow, on the contrary, why would you bring me here, right?" Harry tried to laugh, putting a confidence in his words that he wasn't sure he felt anymore.

  
"I don't know what the fuck you're playing about, boy. But it's pissing me off!"

  
"I'm not playing anything. Why don't you answer me?"

  
"Because it's a stupid question."

  
"Well, I'm the only one with the advantage here, if you didn't notice. I will not release you until you answer me. It's simple."

  
The idiot stuck on the floor closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Harry again, almost as if he had said a little prayer.

  
"I don't see why you're doing this. But do you want an answer? Okay. There is no way for me to follow any dark lord who is already dead. There's your answer, prat."

Dead? 

  
Is Voldemort dead?

  
Who killed him?

  
How much time has passed?

  
What was that uncomfortable feeling, that something was terribly wrong, forming in your stomach?

  
"H-how?" He gargled.

  
The eldest must have seen his confusion, because he replied, "Have you been living in a cave all this time? Grindelwald was killed by Dumbledore six years ago and I'm sure it didn't involve any major battles at Hogwarts."

  
Grindelwald? Six years?

  
Harry was quiet, so silent that the older guy couldn't help staring at his face, looking for any clue as to what was going on in his head.

  
Anyone would have been desperate in this situation. But Harry didn't. He had faced his own death several times, hid for a whole year, starved, watched his friends die and he was abused by his Muggle relatives. No. He was calm. His brain was so focused that if Snape were alive to know about it, he would be amazed.

  
He had developed the habit of facing strange situations with logic, even though he was often reckless in his actions. 

  
And there came the same question again: What would Hermione do?

  
 _Look around you, Harry. Don't let what he said affect you until it's proven. Look, find out._ He could almost hear his best friend's voice whispering in comfort under his shoulder.

  
So that's what he did. 

  
He moved in silence, feeling the blue eyes follow in his footsteps, almost burning his back. 

  
The apartment was small, bland. There was not much left after their fight. However, Harry missed basic items such as a phone, a TV (this could be explained easily if the guy was an "old-time" person who didn't like the technology), he went to the bathroom and what were those corny colors?

  
Then he looked out the double-glazed window and caught his breath. The clothes, the people passing through the streets ... the cars (he was sure those models were old, perhaps from almost 40 years ago) that were in less quantity than the bikes. They were all different.

  
Harry looked at the older one still stuck on the floor. He wore a white shirt and gray slacks, which was attached by two straps over his shoulder. He could also be sure that he had seen a hat somewhere in the middle of the mess that had become the apartment's living room. It looked like the clothes your Uncle Vernon wore on his rare church visits. Cheesy. But it was even stranger to be seen in a man in his twenties.

  
Harry looked at him again.

  
"What year is it?" He really didn't want to hear that answer.

  
The blond boy grimaced, then his eyes widened in understanding, astonished.

  
"1951," The voice failed.

  
A simple answer. Short.

  
A single number.

  
And Harry saw his world become ruins. 

....

It took Tom more than he wanted to confess before he realized he was free. The spell had been lifted at some point during the younger man's search for his apartment and the moment when he fell to the floor on his knees, breathing hard.

  
The Slytherin himself was so shocked by what he just found out that he can't even blame himself for the delayed reaction. 

  
That ragged, dirty, disheveled boy making a sñhattered expression on his carpet, was a time traveler. 

  
And he was strong, too strong for a simple 18-year-old teenager, he was talking about a dark lord and the destruction of Hogwarts.

  
What kind of treasure had just fallen into Tom's hands?

  
His smile stretched so far, making his cheeks hurt. Then, as quickly as it appeared It was gone.

  
Riddle cautiously rose, raising his wand automatically. Although the youngest was so convincing in his reaction, Tom could not easily dismiss the idea that all of this was a trick, too. After all, it was an unbelievable situation.

  
The boy made no move, did not even look at Tom. He had his hand on his chest, looking at the floor, breathing hard in short puffs, as if he were searching for air.

  
The young Slytherin crouched beside him, cautious. 

  
"Hey, are you okay?"

  
He didn't answer. Instead He made an anguished sound, gripping the chest tighter.

  
Tom quickly noticed the reason for the strange behavior. He was having a panic attack.

  
Nothing strange to the Slytherin, after all he lived in an orphanage for many years, including in a time of war. 

  
Now, how did he handle it? He obviously knew that the best way to calm himself in these situations was to focus on his anger, anger at everyone who mistreated him, who made him suffer. For Muggles who were destroying the world. But for some reason he thought that this tactic would not work on the youngest. And he needed him alive and conscious to get his answers. So he decided to use his best tactic, persuasion.

  
"Look, listen to my voice, will you?"

  
No movement.

  
Tom rested his palm on the younger man's shoulder. He chose himself a little but did not move away.

  
"All right. Well, are you listening to my voice? " He said, in a soft, easy tone.

  
It worked.

  
The boy waved and turned to look at Tom. For a moment the Slytherin himself lost his focus. Those eyes were very intense. Green and shiny. And they were looking at Tom as if they could read his whole soul.

  
Riddle closed his eyes quickly, shaking his head and coming back to his senses.

  
"Come on, I want you to follow my instructions right?" He said. "Yes, ok. First, take a breath like this," He filled his chest "That, great. Now release slowly."

  
They continued with this for a few more times, until the youngest calmed down completely and Tom found it safe to move away.

  
"Are you okay now?" 

  
"Ok," he replied in a hoarse voice. "Agh... Thanks."

  
He was uncomfortable and ashamed. Tom could see and shook his head at himself, sick. Weak behavior, so despicable. How had Tom lost to this?

  
"It's ok. Since you feel better, would you like to answer some questions? Like, who are you, how did you get here? And _when_ you are from?"

  
He looked at Tom, as if appraising him.

  
"My name is Harry. As a wizard, you know very well that I cannot answer your last question. And you can be sure that if you knew how I got here, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  
Tom ignored his last two responses, pursing his jaw quickly, before relaxing. 

  
"Just Harry?" He closed his eyes suspiciously. "It wouldn't be a Potter, would it?"

"How do you know? " He answered very quickly and Riddle rolled his eyes.

  
"You don't have to be a genius to know about it. You know Potter genetics, don't you? Just by looking at your hair and the glasses I found out easily."

  
"So you're from England?"

  
"I never said that. I'm from a Canadian thoroughbred family, the Eamon's. Have you heard?"

  
Harry denies it, suspicious.

  
"How do you know about the Potter's, then?"

  
"I moved to London for a while to live with my father's Muggle family after my parents died," He replied easily, shrugging his long-rehearsed story. "My name is Baz, Bazan Eamon M'Lynn, by the way," Tom said, with a perfect Canadian accent. 

  
Harry narrowed his evaluative eyes. 

"Well, is it a pleasure?"

"Our start was really confusing, Harry. But I would like to start over. Maybe?"

  
"Ah, I think so ..." There was not much confidence in his tone.

  
"Great, because we still have many unanswered questions. You are certainly curious about them too. And I think it would be favorable for both of us if we helped each other."

  
"And why would that be favorable to you?"

  
"You only materialized in my apartment after finding a strange and old book in the middle of my table. I think that already answered your question. I'm involved."

  
Harry stood up, and Tom did the same, following him.

  
"Where's this book?"

  
Tom looked around quickly, trying to identify the dark leather in the chaos that had turned his living room. Finding him near the rubble that had once been his couch, he bent down and picked up the strange title. This time there was no strange sting and no light or buzz crackling magic.

  
"Here it is." He approached Harry, as he flipped through the contents quickly.

  
The young Slytherin frowned. 

  
"Is empty."

  
"What?" Harry said over his shoulder. "Isn't."

  
Tom looked at him quickly and at the page he had kept open again.

  
"How?"

  
"You don't see? This symbol, a semi-oval circle, with two little legs protruding from the sides and a dot in the very center. It is drawn on all pages." Harry took the book to himself, and pointed, passing a few pages, "See, all the same."

  
"I don't see anything, Harry."

  
"How can you not? It's right here, in the middle of the page."

  
Tom looked at him for a moment, thinking of all possibilities. If his theory was right, the boy would have gone back in time, through this book. It would be logical that It would be connected to Harry in more complex ways as well.

  
"I think that only you can see the content on these pages," he replied thoughtfully. "Can you say what this symbol is about? Is it familiar to you? Perhaps it looks like a rune, an alchemical symbol or is part of the Phoenician alphabet. You could say?"

  
Harry looked at Tom, completely blank. The eldest rolled his eyes and ran to his room, arranging aparchment and a quill.

  
"Here," He left things on the kitchen counter. "Draw what you see."

  
It looked like there was something he could actually do. Follow orders. Tom almost gave a sneer when he saw Harry bend over the counter to do what was said.

  
The younger one took longer than expected to finish the sketch. Her hair fell over her eyes, and her brow furrowed in concentration. When he handed the parchment to Tom, the Slytherin gasped at the sight of the almost unreadable mess that stained the paper.

  
"Aren't you too young to have some problem with shivering hands?" He scoffed.

  
"I'm used to writing with a ballpoint pen, ok," He replied angrily. "Just see if you recognize that."

  
Tom just checked his eyes, not even wondering what a _ballpoint pen_ was, focusing on the coded writing in his hands. 

  
Due to the slightly rectangular lines (if this were not just a flaw in Harry's horrible handwriting), this symbol could only be a rune, perhaps Greek or Roman. The more he looked, It looked familiar too. He was sure he had seen it somewhere.

  
"Wait a moment," he said and left the parchment in Harry's hands.

  
The Slytherin went to his room again, but this time he walked towards the closet, opening both doors and pulling out his clothes. After whispering a few spells, another, smaller door appeared at the bottom of the closet. He opened it and took the brown suitcase that was hidden, leading it to the living room. Tom dropped it into the carpet, whispering a new spell and then entering the password, and finally releasing the locks.

  
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his voice sounding curious.

  
"I think I know this symbol, it seems to me Greek or Roman, but I need to check first."

  
He opened the suitcase. 

  
"Here, come. And don't forget to take the parchment with you."

  
Tom heard the younger man make a confused sound, but ignored it, getting into his suitcase and walking down the stairs to his private library. 

  
It was a very large and spacious room. Lit by bronze chandeliers that adorned the wooden walls. There were huge bookshelves crammed with books, but they were organized by titles and categories. In the middle of the room, a large fireplace burned with magic fire and two leather sofas decorated the unique environment. In addition, there was also a large square table, which appeared to be the least immaculate and organized thing in the place, with parchments, inks, feathers and open books scattered over it. At the end of the room, a large door was locked, almost hidden between so many shelves.

  
Tom went almost automatically to the sensation that talked about Greek and Roman runes and look for the titles they allied before choosing one and returning to the center of the room, seeing Harry standing there, with his mouth open, looking a little stunned. 

  
"Come on," Tom called, leaving the book on his study table. "Bring the parchment."

  
The younger man was startled, with a sudden voice, almost jumping to look at Tom.

"H-how? What is this place, Baz? We just got into a suitcase and ..." He made an exaggerated movement with his hand.

  
"Expansion charms, never heard of? Honestly, what do they teach in your time?"

  
"No... I, well, I know about expansion charms. I even used a tent with an expanded bottom for a while. But this... this is very big. I didn't know it was possible to create something like this."

  
Harry approached, dropping the parchment on the table, still looking stunned. 

  
Tom shrugged.

  
"It's not a problem if you're a powerful enough wizard."

  
The Slytherin saw Harry lick his lips.

  
"How powerful, exactly?"

  
"Tell me, Harry. After all, you won our little fight," and that memory would be a toothache hard to get rid of.

Stopping paying attention to the youngest, Tom opened the book and quickly checked the summary, finding the desired chapter quickly. He lowered his index finger over the symbols described, comparing it over and over with Harry's drawing.

  
"Here it is, as I thought!" He exclaimed when he found the compatible symbol.

  
"What it says?" The younger asked, leaning his hip against the table, and frowned in confusion. "What language is that?"

  
"Persian."

  
"I thought that you said that was Greek or Roman."

  
"The symbol is," Young Riddle answered easily. "However, this book was found in a small shop in southern Ukraine, a country that was influenced by Iranian rule a few decades ago. The salesman was a little strange, I'll tell you. There was a huge scar on his face and the left ear was missing, but he had really good things to sell and the price was great too."

  
"Oh," That was all Harry managed to say, very confused by all the information he had just received. "And can you understand what is written?"

  
"When you're a wizard Harry, tell me, what can't you do?"

  
Tom whispered a spell, without even raising his wand and the pages were quickly translated into English. 

  
Ignoring the stunned boy again, he read the meaning of the symbol thoughtfully. 

  
"There is a complement to this symbol. Look," He points, drawing the attention of the youngest. "The one you drew means _kairós_ , and this other one, in which the semi-oval circle has the opening facing left instead of the right, means _chronos_. The two together complete each other. Both are words that the Greeks used to refer to the time, but they don't have the same meaning."

  
"Haven't they?"

  
"Chronos refers to chronological or sequential time, that is, time in a constant, you know?"

  
"Basically the continuous timeline. These things about getting old and dying."

  
"Exactly," Tom smiled. "Kairós is the indeterminate moment in time when something special happens. Also called like the opportune time."

"Okay, so what exactly are these runes for?"

"Well, that's the interesting fact. They shouldn't work, in theory."

"What do you mean?"

Tom can see Harry Adam's apple going up and down, swallowing dry. Tom can't help but smile.

"Have you ever heard of the Tales of Beedle the Bard? About the tale of the three Peverell brothers? Where they find Death herself and she grants them three of items?"

The youngest one pale quickly and staggers backwards. Tom frowned, intrigued. What reaction was that?

"The relics of Death," he answered slowly. "The wand of the wands, the stone of resurrection and... and the cloak of invisibility."

For a moment Harry looks away, showing a cloudy expression. As if he were lost in an ancient memory.

"Exactly," says Tom, frowning, giving him an inspecting look. This boy was looking more and more interesting.

"Well, the legend says that whoever gathers the three relics will become the master of death. Just like, there's an even older legend that says about a wizard who walked the earth a long time ago, considered the master of time. However, such a power cannot exist without limitations or consequences. So one was only allowed to change time in a moment... opportune, and it was believed that those moments would be when the world needed it most. And in doing so, it would be necessary to give something in return. However, even if you knew the charm for it and were willing to take the risks, it would not work. Only the time master himself could."

The teenager shook.

"What if the time master died?"

"The power would pass to his descendants. But for all it's worth, it's just a legend. And even if it wasn't, the tale was lost a long time ago, leading to the belief that this genetic lineage would have been eradicated as well. It's pure luck that I got this book from a dubious merchant in Ukraine, in fact."

"So these runes, are they the ones through which time would be controlled?"

"Exactly. And isn't it interesting, Harry, how the rune used as a breach in time appeared in this book, from where you came out and that only you can see it?" Tom hit the tip of his index finger on the dark cover, it was still stuc between Harry's arm and against his chest.

"Are you coming out that the legend is real, then?"

"And that the master of time has summoned you here. That's right," Tom nods with a light smile. His veins seemed to bubble.

"And why me? Why you? Why this moment?" The green-eyed boy had an exasperated look on his face. As if he only created more questions on top of the questions he already had.

  
"Well, that's what we have to find out. However, luckily for you, I have a good clue on where to start."

  
Tom hadn't felt so excited and intrigued in a long time either.  
...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very happy with the comments in the last chapter! Thank you very much for all the support! ❤❤ Remember that I really appreciate comments and constructive criticism, so feel free to express yourself.
> 
> Ps: I said it once, but I repeat, English is not my native language, any grammar mistakes let me know.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyaa, how are you guys?
> 
> I would like to say that this chapter is just a little bit of complementation. It deals more with the difficulty that Harry has in accepting that he is alone now, without his friends, and why it leads him to depend on Tom (Baz). It also says a little about the drastic difference between their personalities. Maybe it's a little tedious, so feel free to skip this chapter if you like. It is another complement that will help the general context of the story, so I kept this chapter and didn't change it when I realized that it had gotten a little too long. So, a quick summary of this chapter: Harry has his first experience going out into the outside world at a different time, there is a disagreement between the opinion of Tom and Harry about the Muggles and how magic is used. And then, they arrive at Testo & Piúma (the place where Marie works), which starts being narrated by Tom in the next chapter. I promise it will be something more dynamic after that.
> 
> For those who choose to read, thanks and good reading!

  
The next morning, after spending the night awake recovering what was left of Baz's apartment, using some restoration spells, Harry took a shower (Merlin, he really needed it) and changed into clean clothes. Courtesy of the blond. So the duo had a quick coffee (since none of them could really think of sleeping), just pancakes with molasses and tea, and then they headed off towards _Tribuna Avversaria._ That Harry learned, was a magical neighborhood, as were Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

They preferred to take a longer route, through the narrow and fascinating streets of Palermo. Baz commented that he liked to walk to enjoy the view, however, Harry suspected that the blonde just wanted to see the stupid expression on his face as they walked.

The streets had an architecture similar to the neoclassical style. With unique constructions, with symmetrical facades, balustrades, large pediments and plaster ornaments. It looked like something the Gryffindor had seen in his History of Magic book in Professor Binns' class.

There were also many sales stalls, being a port city, the fishy smell was quite strong and Harry couldn't help wrinkling his nose a few times.

People seemed to have come out of one of the novels their Aunt Petunia used to read. Women in more discreet clothes, with hairstyles firmly attached to the top of their heads. Hats, salts anddiscreet heel shoe. The men wore more formal attire as well. Like shirts, suits and dress shoes. Harry could even see some young, poor children offering to polish their shoes in exchange for a few coins.

As they walked, Harry asked Baz for a coin and bought a pamphlet that spoke a little more about the city, at a newsstand. After casting a translation spell (which he had learned from Baz last night), he read aloud:

" _Palermo, one of the five largest cities in Italy. It is a port city, known for its sights rich in culture, history and its culinary delicacies._ Uhm ..."

"You need to know the food here. It is one of the best I have ever tasted. Maybe later we can have lunch at some restaurant. Osteria Ballàro is my favorite, personally," Baz commented helpfully.

"Oh, right" Harry replied a little distracted, worried to try to know as much information about the place where he was, and returned to his reading, " _The island of Sicily is bathed by the three great seas called Trimede, the Mediterranean Sea, Ionian and Tyrrhenian. Thus allowing large vessels to reach the port, bringing goods and tourists from all over the world over the centuries._.."

"Because of this, too, that its historical collection is so large and attracts many people in search of knowledge, as well as me. There are stories that Jews arrived on this island in the 15th century, bringing artifacts and magical books after they run away from a massacre that took place in the Iberian peninsula. They should have arrived by the Mediterranean sea. Many magicians come to this island to research about this things."

"Jews? Magic?" Harry stops reading the brochure, suddenly interested.

Baz raised an eyebrow, with a discreet smile on his lips.

"Oh, don't you know? Well, considering how the History of Magic is taught at Hogwarts, it's not surprising. At least while I was a student, we had a professor named Binns. He was terribly tedious and even moving and sometimes spoke like a ghost. He taught us only about the Goblin rebellion in the eighteenth century. I really can't understand his fixation for that ..." He grimaced and Harry laughed.

"Oh well. Nothing has really changed. My History of Magic professor was also Binns. However he is really a ghost in my day ..."

"Oh no ..." Baz interrupted with anguish and Harry laughed a little louder.

"Yeah, and he always falling asleep in the middle of class. It is really tedious. " Harry commented, remembering all the times that Jorge and Fred played a trick on the Professor.

Baz wrinkled his nose.

"I reiterate what I said before. Hogwarts has a huge shortage when it comes to the history of the wizarding world. But anyway, back to what I was saying, the Jews were pure-blooded wizards a long time ago, of an ancient and rich origin. It's a bit ironic, actually, when a lunatic muggle who claimed to preserve eugenics in the second great war, butchered half of them. Unfortunately, few of them remain in the world today, and their magical heritage has been almost completely destroyed or stolen by Muggles, who may not even know, in fact, how precious these items were. They just cared about their gold."

Harry suddenly stopped walking.

"Hang on. Are you telling me that the Jews were pure-bloods wizards? And let them be slaughtered like that? And the Ministry of Magic? Why isn't this taught at Hogwarts?" Harry was beyond shocked. For a moment he even forgot that he had traveled forty years in the past.

"Why the astonishment? I said that the Jews originated from ancient pure-blood families, however, over the years the lines became narrow and many of the wizards married Muggles and the bloodline became much smaller, thus causing the birth of a increasing number of abortions. The ministry did nothing for the reason that they didn't want a result similar to what happened in Salem, at the time of witch hunts. If they revealed themselves, it would only make things worse. As much as Obliviate is an excellent spell, there is no way to use it against thousands of people. At least, of course, if they became strong enough to subdue Muggles. Thus, no wizard would suffer from oppression anymore and we would not need to live in hiding and in fear."

Baz's blue eyes were shining at the end, and Harry was so confused by what he had just discovered that he didn't stop to pay attention to the older man's auspicious expression at the end of the sentence. 

"I don't think subduing Muggles is the solution," Harry commented, a little indignantly. "There should be a solution so that we can live in harmony. Not all Muggles are bad, really. In my opinion, both bad wizards and Muggles should be judged to get what they deserve."

"Are you talking about equal rights?" Baz asked, looking skeptical.

"Exactly, why not?"

The blonde went silent, expressionless, and it annoyed Harry not to know what he was thinking about.

Then he laughed.

"We are more powerful than them. It does not work. You've heard of natural selection, right? The survival of the fittest. Muggles are self-persevering and also cruel in nature, they would wipe out anything that threatened their survival. Your thinking is very naive, Harry. Life is not a fairy tale, you know," Baz replied, kind of amused.

He looked at Harry, his curly bangs falling under his eye. 

Harry felt a little mesmerized. 

Baz was a tall man. Harry needed to lift his head to look him in the face. His hair was a grayish blond, with light curls at the ends (much more behaved than Harry's own) and they shone in the sunlight, almost like a floating aura, framing his face. His smile was easy and there was a small hole in his left cheek, his eyes were a very light shade of blue, which were even more apparent in the morning sun. He was a type of man who left a strong impression, in fact. The Gryffindor would hardly have forgotten if he had met him before. However, even for a few moments, there was something about how he smiled or looked at him that was extremely familiar. The youngest just couldn't point the finger on why.

Reflecting on this, Harry forgot that he should be irritated by Baz's insult. And he was outraged to let his mind wander at a time like this. What was wrong with him?

"Well, I'm sure there are better methods than subduing Muggles. This solution would only bring war and hatred. And if it were to pay that price, in what way, would you say, we would be better than the muggles that you judge so widely in general?"

Harry was not liking the direction of this conversation at all. Baz's thoughts were strangely similar to those of the Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself. It gave the Gryffindor a bad feeling.

And not for the first time since he woke up in this new (or he should say old) decade, the Gryffindor thought, what kind of person was the one with him, accompanying him?

Harry was afraid to know the answer. Because if it weren't for Baz, he would be totally alone and lost in that time. Just the thought of it, made his chest tighten and the air escape from his lungs. What had been holding Harry up until now was the hope that Baz had presented him with. To be able to find this supposed lady of Time, to solve what I had to solve here and return home. For your friends, your family.

And Harry had to confess, Baz was smart, maybe, - Merlin would have mercy if his best friend ever knew that - even more so than Hermione. The Gryffindor was at least aware that he could not find the answers to his questions without Baz at his side. Throughout the confusion he faced Harry had depended a lot on his friends and he was terrified of the possibility of being alone again, lost in a time and place that he did not know and that was not his, without the necessary knowledge to return. Unfortunately, Baz was his safest bet.

The blonde opened and closed his mouth, then said, "You are so in love with the Muggle cause. But you are a Potter, a family of pure blood."

"I'm a half-breed, just like you. My Muggle relatives are of the worst kind, I must say. But that doesn't change the fact that there are good and bad people on both sides. You should know that too, after living with both species."

A tiny vein popped on the blond's forehead and he looked away, changing the subject, in a somewhat forced attitude.

"We are here."

They were in a circular-shaped garden. There was a huge church in the center, also in the neoclassical style, and they had to circulate it to a more isolated are. Stopping in front of a bronze statue.

It was the bizarre figure of an angel with a baby face and a muscular body. There were some marks of corrosion, showing the obvious lack of care with time as well. Because of this being located behind the church, there was little movement and therefore no muggles in sight.

Baz let the wand run from his sleeve, to his palm, and turned his fist easily, touching the tip of the ash wood against the scabbard of the statue. The structure began to deform quickly and a large passageway took its place.

"Come," he said and took a step inside. 

Harry swallowed and followed him.

The location was not much different from Diagon Alley. Even until they reached a lane where the streets were narrower (which, therefore, generated little light). The buildings turned gray and store windows began to show objects of questionable nature, such as masks with horrifying faces, animals in weak and angry books, which resembled what Hagrid had caused the Gryffindor to buy in his fifth year (Harry suspected that fondle this type of book wouldn't solve the behavior problem this time). In addition to all this, there were some people walking around with cloaks covering their faces as well.

  
"Looks like I'm at Knockturn Alley," Harry muttered, wincing, wishing he had borrowed a coat from Baz before leaving.

"In fact ... it can be said that this is where things... interesting are commercialized."

"Wouldn't you say illegal things?" Harry replied, not avoiding the disgust in his voice.

Thoses stranger thoughts about the Muggles and now this? What kind of wizard did Bazan M'Lynn really be?

Harry was afraid to find out.

After all, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were not the only Dark Wizards in existence.

The Gryffindor swallowed.

Why did he have to meet this strange guy from everyone in the world right away?

"Since when are there rules in magic that make something illegal or even prohibited?"

"Well, it's pure logic. Like the unforgivable, the books of Darkness... And the Ministry also says..."

"Just because a spell uses more radical means, they are not necessarily illegal. Dark magic and Light magic, as I imagine you must have been taught at Hogwarts, are just two strands of magic. There are no wizards, I guarantee you, who have never used a dark spell. We learned them in the Defense Class against the dark arts. In the end, it all comes down to that, magic. Both aspects have their strengths and weaknesses. Unforgivable spells, you see, are actually more complicated, however, I don't agree that they should be banned or even considered illegal. Because when it comes to defending yourself against an enemy, none of that counts. Magic is free, without rules. The Ministry that determines what is wrong or not. Not the magic. They are afraid of the real power."

"But ..." Harry walked away a little, uncomfortable and almost bumped into a hooded person, if it weren't for Baz grabbing his arm and pulling him.

"Be careful," he whispered, close to her ear. "You won't want to fight with any of the possible people you've met here."

Harry walked away, immediately, as if an icy breeze was blowing through his body.

"Is that true for you too?: Harry asked, his voice shaking.

Baz just smiled, his expression as calm as ever.

"I'm just warning you, Harry. I'm not like any of the people who walk around here. I seek only knowledge in all ways. Magic ... is capable of many things. It's in you ..." He waved his fingers and Harry's skin started to glow slightly, crackling magic. "Around you..." Then Harry can see Baz start to shine, as well as all the people and beings in the alley. A faint blue, luminous light, crackling and writhing. "It's in everything. You understand?"

"How... What did you do?" Harry asked in shock, raising his own shiny hand in front of his face.

"Just a simple spell in your eyes. What you can see is the magic flowing naturally. It has always been there and you can only see it now."

"I never heard about a spell like that," He murmured, still amazed.

"I learned when I traveled to Khirbet Al-Rai in Israel, with a witch tribe called Aser. They live hidden from the western population, in the middle of the mountains. The inhabitants appreciate the magical nature and because of that they are very good with healing and cultivation spells for crops. Years of magical study have enabled them to give life to even such an arid soil."

Harry stared at him again, gaping. Merlin, this guy was a walking knowledge machine. Even _worse_ than Hermione.

"How ... how did you know about this kind of place and ... I mean, did you travel to this place, on the other side of the world, to study? "

"Of course. I traveled to many places, actually. You don't think the knowledge taught at Hogwarts is the same for everyone, wizard, right? There is much more than those old men teach us. And that's what I'm after."

In fact, Harry had never even thought about it. 

"But you look so young ... how?"

"Yeah, and since I graduated I travel. I never stay in the same place too long, just a few months, or even weeks. I always read and get to know a little bit about each place I go. Of course, there are times when my travels have fruitless results too... but that's it. Question answered?"

The young Gryffindor was speechless for a moment, not knowing what to say. 

"Oh, yes," he said, uselessly, at last.

Baz laughed and snapped his fingers. Harry started to miss the magic glow almost immediately. It made the dark place much more welcoming.

"Come on, the store is right across the street."

Harry nodded, but grabbed Baz's wrist before he could continue walking. "But wait. Why ... are you telling me about all this? You don't even know me"

Baz approached, slowly, with a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Because you interest me, Harry Potter. And it's not fun that you have these stupid thoughts about magic. And _because_ it's so much more fun to corrupt you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I researched many things while writing this chapter, but it may be that certain information is not quite correct. I hope it doesn't bother anyone hahaha. Anyway, I am very happy with the support I am receiving with the story, through Kudos and favorites. It means a lot to me and it motivates me a lot too. I wanted to thank everyone for that!❤❤
> 
> Comments and criticisms help me a lot in the progress of the story, I like to know about your reactions, so I can know how to better determine the pace of the story.
> 
> Reminder: English is not my native language, any errors, please let me know.


End file.
